


Johnlockary and Child

by McBangle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby Watson, Bickering, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Humor, Johnlockary - Freeform, Multi, OT3, Swearing, but they love each other - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/pseuds/McBangle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A domestic scene in 221B with our OT3 and their daughter. </p>
<p>Dirty nappies and parental career pressures ahead! But mostly fluff and humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Johnlockary and Child

Sherlock was playing Solve the Case on the floor of 221B with Charlotte when he smelled a telltale scent. “John! Mary! Your daughter needs her nappy changed!”

John looked up from his newspaper. “Well change her nappy, then.”

Sherlock held the toddler at arms’ length with a look of distaste on his face. “I believe a child needs her mother or father for that particular task.”

“Oh, for the love of-” Mary walked downstairs from their bedroom, rolling her eyes. “She’s all of our daughter when she hits a milestone early or finds Wally or so much as smiles in your direction, but she’s John’s and my daughter when she dirties her nappy, is that how it works?” She glanced pointedly at the changing table in the corner of the room, and then back to Sherlock, arms crossed. “You know how to change a nappy just as well as John and I do. You’re not getting out of it this time, Sherlock.”

“John?” Sherlock asked, pleadingly.

“Yeah, no.” John lifted the paper back up over his face again and settled into his chair. “Not doing it. You are literally holding the baby, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sighed dramatically. “Fine.” He carried the squirming toddler to the changing table.

“Big poo-poo,” Charlotte giggled.

“I’d deduced that already,” Sherlock remarked dryly, double-gloving and pulling on a respirator. “And the next time you feel an urge to do that, you toddle on over to Daddy John before voiding your bowels.”

“Bow-wows,” the toddler responded, solemnly nodding her head.

“Sherlock, for the thousandth time, you don’t need gloves and a mask to change a nappy,” Mary exclaimed in an exasperated voice.

“This is a crime scene filled with toxic fumes, and it will be treated as such.” Sherlock grimaced as he went to work.

“You don’t even wear gloves or masks at real crime scenes, you git,” John said from behind his newspaper. “And don’t you conspire with our daughter to shit-bomb me.”

Mary leaned over and squinted at the pile of papers and photographs on the floor. “Sherlock? What exactly had you been playing with Charlotte?”

“Solve the Case. It’s her favorite game. She’s shown quite a proficiency for it. One day she will be the world’s second Consulting Detective, won’t you, Charlotte?” Sherlock responded, securing the clean nappy and wiping his hands with the first of three antimicrobial wipes, as was his routine.

“Is that a photo of a beheading, Sherlock?” Mary raised an eyebrow.

“That one was Archie’s favorite,” Sherlock proclaimed proudly, setting Charlotte on her feet and patting her head affectionately as she toddled away.

John dropped his newspaper. “Sherlock,” he asked, a note of warning in his voice, “did you show photographs of a beheading to my not-quite-two-year-old daughter?”

“Not good?” Sherlock asked Mary.

“A bit not good,” she confirmed.

Sherlock sighed. “It’s _so_ difficult to keep track of your silly rules. At any rate, I’m hardly the only one trying to get our daughter to share his interests. John is constantly claiming that Charlotte will grow up to be a doctor.” He and Mary shared an eye roll.

“Well _of course_ she’s going to be a doctor,” John sighed, exasperated. “She’s certainly not going to follow into either of her other parents’ chosen careers.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and glanced at Mary. As usual, John had stepped in it.

Mary was outraged. “I perform critical assignments for the Crown!”

Sherlock sighed. “John, I’m surprised at you. It’s terribly sexist to suggest that a young girl can’t grow up to be whatever she wants.”

“Precisely so,” Mary nodded her head vigorously. “Charlotte can be whatever she wants to be, can’t you darling?” At the moment, the future doctor/assassin/World’s Second Consulting Detective was picking dried-up bits of Play Doh off the rug and testing them for edibility.

Mary crouched in front of the toddler, her voice sweet and wheedling. “Charlotte, darling? What do you want to be when you grow up? A Fixer, like Mummy? A Mystery Solver, like Daddy Sherlock? Or some dull old doctor like Daddy John?”

John rolled his eyes at Mary’s and Sherlock’s production, but leaned forward expectantly, awaiting their daughter’s response.

Charlotte’s face lit up, loving being the center of attention. She sat up straight, lifted her chin, and proudly declared, “A fire twuck!”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic, please be gentle! I just love these three knuckleheads.
> 
> Concrits and Brit-picks much appreciated!


End file.
